Take It Now
by QueenOfDarkComedy
Summary: Lt. Dane Preston struggles to processes the bizarre series of events that lead him into Forest Hills Cemetery. Covered in blood and in shock, Preston has to figure out what to do with the weird doll baby that attacked him only moments earlier. His decision won't be easy, but he can't leave his colleagues to find the doll child either.


What the actual _fuck _did I just experience?! Was the only thing that Lt. Dane Preston could think as he wiped as much blood off his face as he possibly could.

Did that _doll_ just give _birth_?

Well…_obviously_, considering the monstrosity that lay before him. There was blood absolutely everywhere, and he couldn't get it off of him fast enough.

Preston checked the pulse, albeit cautiously of the now unconscious Tiffany.

_Dead_….

"Damn!" Dane blurted.

Only moments after Jesse and Jade explained as best they could this bizarre series of events. He wouldn't have believed their story if he hadn't seen it first hand, and he knew others wouldn't either.

The doll baby layed there in the dead grass, crying at the top off its lungs. ...Though it _did_ sound more like a pig's cry than a baby's…after all, this wasn't human. The thing nearly attacked him, or so he thought before it fell to the ground, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Dane wiped the sweat off his forehead. In the next twenty minutes this place was going to be crawling with cops, detectives, and medical examiners.

_Terrific…_thought Preston. How was he going to explain this _thing_ to his department?

He couldn't.

He wouldn't do it.

He needed to find someone to take this baby off his hands, and _fast_.

Preston sighed. He did the only thing he could think of and took off his coat, picked up this deranged baby, and wrapped it up.

The doll baby continued to cry, tears streaming down its face; its little hands reached out to Preston.

Preston sighed. Was he really taking pity on this thing? "It's OK..." started rocking it from side to side, trying to calm him or her down."It'll be OK."

_Him_ or _her_? What was the gender of this thing anyway?

Preston took a peak.

To his surprise: Nothing!

"_What in the hell_?" a look of confusion on his face.

Why was he surprised? Nothing about last night and this morning made any sense.

He felt like he was in a horror film…was this some kind of sick cosmic joke? Am I going to wake up from this nightmare? Any second now…thought Preston.

"We need to get you out of here." said Preston to the doll baby that was just now calming down.

Preston checked his surroundings. He wasn't sure where he was going to go...but his eyes kept diverting to Charles Lee Ray's open grave.

He set the baby down on the ground, grabbed the ladder, and climbed into the grave, where a now dead Chucky lay. He crouched down and looked closely at the dead doll. He wasn't sure why he climbed in the grave. He stood there for a long moment; he looked over at the dolls hand. It was still holding a necklace. Preston grabbed hold of the necklace. He looked at it from front to back. It had a dark red jewel in its center, with two snakes coiled around it. He also found some cash in the pocket of its overalls.

He took the money and counted it: $1000 dollars. What?

"Hmmmm..." he paused for a several seconds, before putting it into his pocket.

A moment later he climbed the ladder and removed it from the grave.

He picked the baby up and started walking towards the cemetery caretakers office.

He looked at the now calm doll baby, who yawned and smiled at him. "I'm going to take a guess and assume that was your father lying in there, am I right?" He said to the young doll.

It let out a strange sounding giggle.

"Yeah...well, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, little guy...but your folks are dead...I have to find you a home-and fast!"

He reached a small portable office that was attached to a large shed. Preston knocked on the door to the cemetery caretakers office.

He waited.

He knocked again. This time persistently. "Hello?!" he yelled out.

He waited again.

Nothing.

"This is detective Lt. Dane Preston!" he called out again. "I need you to open this door!"

They must not be in there. He peered in the window. He was right. No one was home.

"Damn it..."

He looked off into the distance.

A van was parked on the side of the road.

He hurried over to it. Perhaps someone was visiting a loved one?

Either way, once he passed this 'child' off to someone else, it would no longer be his problem.

"Just fucking great..." Preston hissed.

He stood there for a second, staring at this baby; it's sharped teeth flashed at him as it yawned. It stared up at him, almost glaring.

Then a horrible horrible thought came over Preston.

He looked to his right and found a piece of a broken grave stone.

Should he put this _thing _out of its misery?

If so...what would he do with the body? He couldn't veer too far off from the crime scene, his colleagues would be there literally any minute. Not to mention combing every last inch of the cemetery for any evidence to this bizarre series of events that lead Preston to where he was now standing.

He also wouldn't have enough time to bury it the cemetery...Ironically...

Still...they'd probably experiment on this thing anyway. Perhaps if he did it quick-

He wanted to get it over with.

Preston set the baby down on the grass and reached for a large piece of rock.

He raised the rock above his head.

The baby stared back at him, blinking with it's deep, dark blue eyes; they were like puddles of blue rain water. What looked like a monster merely ten minutes ago now seemed sweet and innocent. His/her eyes filled with tears, reaching its tiny arms towards Preston as if asking or a hug.

Preston wiped the sweat off his forehead;, his heartbeat picking up at a rapid pace.

What was he _doing_?

He was no killer...

As tough and as sure of himself as he usually felt...he was still no killer.

And this was a baby. It may not be fully human...but it was still human in some ways, nonetheless.

Preston sighed and dropped the rock in defeat; tears now filling his eyes.

"I can't do it!" he called out to no one in particular, and then began to sob.

He dropped to his knees and sobbed into his hands.

"I'm sorry...I'm so so sorry..." Preston picked the baby up and gave it a hug.

"Jesus, mate. What are you sorry for?" said a voice from behind Preston. This immediately made him yelp in surprise.

He drew his gun towards the direction of the man behind him.

This man through up his hands in defense. "Whoa! Whoa!"

"What the hell are you doing here?" asked Preston cautiously to the man in front of him. He was a young guy that looked like a rock n roll burnout before his time.

"Just taking a midnight stroll through the cemetery is all," said the young mad, flicking his cigarette to the ground, and dropping a bottle of whiskey, hands still semi up.

Preston lowered his gun. "I'm detective Lt. Dane Preston. This is a crime scene you're in the middle of," he pointed out of the general area. "I suggest you clear the area."

"Alright..." the man complied in a mock fashion. "But first, what's that fuckin' thing you got there?" he asked, peering at the wrapped up baby.

Preston paused and thought for a long moment...

If this were any other time, he'd of chased this loser off by now.

But these were different circumstances.

Much much different circumstances...

"Oy, Peter!" someone called off into the distance. This guy obviously had a couple of buddies roaming the woods with him. "Come 'ere!

"Fuck off, mates! I'll be there in a minute!" Peter called back.

These guys sounded like they were from somewhere in the UK.

...Wait a second! Maybe this could work to Preston's advantage.

"Let me ask you a question: Where do you live?"

"_What_?"

"What country do you live in?!" barked Preston.

"United Kingdom."

"You vacationing here?"

"Who wants to know?" Peter asked suspiciously.

Preston flashed his badge.

"Yeah, I'm on holiday. What of it?"

_Perfect_.

"When do you leave?"

"What's with all the bloody questions?!"

"Just answer the fucking question!" Lt. Preston belted out.

"In the morning, why?" Peter was starting to get annoyed.

"Good!" he blurted out. "I have a quick job for you. You cooperate, you get $1000 in cash right where we stand. If you don't, you and your buddies down there will be charged with trespassing, littering, and tampering with the evidence of the crime."

Peter was about to open his mouth to say something in retaliation.

"Do we have a deal?"

"I take it that-" Peter looked over at the doll baby from a distance. "-_thing-_is part of your evidence, mate?"

"You got it. I want you to take this kid and get out of here." Preston handed the baby to Peter, who held it in disgust. "I don't care what you do with it. Get it out of here. Now!"

"Ugly fuckin' thing, ain't it..." he made a face of disgust.

"Also, one more thing: Do me a favor," Preston held up the Heart of Damballa. "Give this necklace to him or her. It's important," he tucked the necklace in the jacket, wrapped around the doll baby.

"What do you-?"

"Listen! I don't know if it's a boy or girl-" Preston started to say. "-you'll see what I mean..."

Preston took the cash out of his pocket and handed it to Peter.

Peter smirked and grabbed the money. "You got yourself a deal, mate," shaking Preston's hand and winking.

"Now take your friends and get out of here."

Preston watched as the young, burn out, rock n roll rejected man took off with the doll baby.

He was going to regret this one day; he was sure of it. Yup.

Sirens could be heard from a distance.

He couldn't promise himself this kid was going to be safe...But it was out of his hands now.

He turned toward the grave of Charles Lee Ray; focusing on the doll in the grave, and then turning to the doll that lay in the grass.

He had a _lot _of research to do.

_**Sixteen Years Later...**_

Glen was sitting at the kitchen table; the Heart of Damballa swinging back and forth in his hand. He swung it back and forth, like a pendulum a couple of times and grabbed it with his other hand to stop the movement.

He paused and looked at the place mat on the table; starring off into space. He was contemplating a question he'd been dying to ask his mother for quite sometime.

Tiffany was busy in the kitchen, cooking Glen and Glenda breakfast.

"Mum…" Glen's tone sounded a little sad.

"What is it, sweetface?"

"I've been wanting to ask you something..."

Tiffany turned around. "And what's that?"

"Where did you give birth to me? –Originally, I mean. What were the circumstances?"

Tiffany smirk was that of understanding. She knew he'd ask one day.

"Well, to tell you the truth…I don't really remember the whole thing—I was in so much pain." Tiffany tried to recall as best she could. I do remember this cop I had seen on television…he poked me in the chest to get me to wake up…and then I woke up screaming...had you...and everything went black.

"Where was that?"

"Hackensack, New Jersey's Forest Hill's Cemetery. Why?"

"Oh….Weird…"

"Why do you ask, Sweetface?"

"Psychs, the man who used me as a puppet that I told you about, would tell everyone at every show that he found me in a cemetery back in the states. I also overheard him ten years ago talking about a police officer that found me?"

"Is that so…." Tiffany thought for a second.

That's right...thought Tiffany. Psychs: Another person to add to Chucky and Tiffany's hit list.

"You know, Glen…I think your daddy and I are going to pay a little visit to this 'Psychs' guy." Tiffany's smirk grew wider.

"You're not going to hurt him are you?" Glen eyed his mother suspiciously.

Tiffany was lost in a couple seconds trance.

"_Mum_!" Glen exaggerated. "Please tell me you won't kill him."

"Oh no, Sweetface..." she lied. "We're just going to have a little…'talk' with him is all.

Thank him for taking care of you for us."

"Taking **care** of me? He bloody treated me like shit... Even named me shitface." Glen rolled his eyes and sighed., excusing him self from the table. "Forget I brought it up."

"Don't be too long, breakfast is almost ready."

"OK, Okasan…"

Later that afternoon, Glen sat in his high school library, scrolling through on his laptop. He often wondered about the actual truth surrounding the circumstances of his birth….He knew he had been born in that cemetery….he just wanted to understand the chain of events that lead up to his birth. And with his dads new found hit list he overheard his parents talking about, he had to act quickly if he was going to help save innocent lives. He loved his dad...but he could no longer carry the weight of the burden of keeping these murders a secret from the world. He had to help save peoples lives; he had to act, and act fast...

And he figured the best place to start would be to get a little bit more background information of his father's exploits...specifically the events leading up to his and Glenda's birth.

He had several web browser windows open. One on Charles Lee Ray in human form, another on Tiffany in her original human form, and a couple more that had information about the murders nearly blamed on Jesse & Jade Kincaid.

One headline to an article that came out around 1998 read:

_**Lt. Dane Preston's Murder Case Comes To A Bizarre Dead End In Forest Hills Cemetery**_

"_Preston…_" Glen whispered to himself.

He opened another window and typed into the search bar:

_**Lt. Dane Preston police upstate New York**_

And hit the enter key.

He clicked on the first link.

A paragraph of information popped up containing Dane Preston's contact information. Things had certainly changed in 16 years.

For starters...Preston was no longer working for the Lockport Police Department. And he wasn't a Lieutenant either.

He was now Commissioner Dane Preston of San Bernardino,California Police Department.

"Well that's bloody convenient…" Glen whispered to himself.

He wrote down Preston's information and typed his number into his phone.

Glen wouldn't be contacting him right off the bat, but he knew that he'd eventually need to. And that time was coming. He could sense it…

_**Two Months Later…**_

"Alright, Andy...I'll see you all soon then..." Dane Preston said into his cell phone, then hung up.

Dane sat at his desk in silence. It was late in the evening. The police station was nearly empty. He was exhausted, staring at his computer screen.

He had a couple of articles on Andy Barclay, Jessie and Jade, and Nica Pierce all lined up in a row.

"What a god damn mess..." he said out of frustration, throwing down the file he was holding onto his desk.

He reached into his desk and grabbed out a flask, taking a swig of whatever was inside. He wiped his mouth, shaking a little bit as he did.

He had just gotten off the phone with Andy Barclay. Apparently, someone mailed Chucky mysteriously to Barclay's home just a week before...Resulting in Andy shooting Chucky in the face. Preston was one of the few cops involved in any of the Chucky cases; Mike Norris and Jack Santos being the other two...By now, he was more than familiar with Charles Lee Ray, his victims, and survivors than he ever wanted to be or know. After all...he was a survivor himself. He knew he had to help in someway...And this upcoming meeting he planned with Andy Barclay and the rest of the survivors had to prove successful or risk being on Chucky's hit list...Everyone knew it; everyone suspected it.

He looked at an article with Nica Pierce's name on it. She was released from an asylum in Rhode Island on the order of Lt. Ronald Tyler, whom had found evidence that helped dismiss her as the killer in the case; something about her brother-in-laws computer and the deleted files on the nearly destroyed hard drive.

The past was coming back to bite him in the ass, he knew it. What he didn't realize was that the night was about to get a whole lot more interesting...

There was a light tapping on the door.

Preston raised his head up; alert.

"What the hell...? Come in." He called out.

The tapping continued.

"Come in!" Preston was getting annoyed.

He finally just got up and opened the door. He looked from side to side. No one was there, but he did feel something lightly brush up against his pant leg.

"What the-"

Then a thought occurred to him:

It was probably Chucky.

He pulled out his gun slowly.

"Come out right now or I'll shoot."

Glen, whom had hid behind Preston's desk, stepped out with his hands above his head.

_Made In Japan_ stamped across Glen's wrist.

"Hello..." Glen said in a complying tone. "Please don't shoot me...I'm begging you."

Preston dropped his gun on the carpet.

"_You_!"

Preston's mouth dropped wide open. He took a few steps back and tripped, falling against the door frame.

"I was going to call you, but-"

"It's you!" Preston blurted, crawling away.

"So you know who I am?!" asked Glen cautiously optimistic.

"You were that doll baby thing from the cemetery!" Preston blurted out.

"Look! I'm not going to hurt you! I just-" Glen calmed his voice. "I just need your help."

Preston heart rate began to quicken. He took a few deep breaths, calming down.

"May I sit down?" Glen asked, letting Preston know with his body language that he was of no threat.

Preston stood up slowly. "Sure...why not..." he put his hands on his hips, pacing back and forth.

"Please hear me out," Glen began. "I found you through a lot of research. My mum and my dad are Charles Lee Ray and Tiffany Valentine-Ray, the dolls you found sixteen years ago in Hackensack, New Jersey."

"I know who they are." Preston folded his arms. "I also know who you are."

"You do?"

"I'm the one that delivered you in that cemetery."

Glen gasped.

"What I don't know...is your name."

"Oh, sorry...I'm Glen." Glen held out his hand.

Preston shook it cautiously.

"Good name. How did you find me?"

Glen explained to Preston the events that started from as far back as he could remember until the present moment.

It was a lot for Preston to take in.

He handed Glen a cup of tea.

"I'm glad you came to me." Preston sat across from Glen. "You're timing is good because I just got a call from a young man. You're probably way too young to remember this...and I don't know if your father brought him up to you...but his name's Andy Barclay. About 26 years ago...he claimed his Good Guy doll was alive."

"I know who Andy Barclay is..." Glen sighed. "My dad mentioned him a couple of times and he was a huge part of the information I dug up on my family."

"That's the reason I came to you." Glen started. "He won't stop killing; he's not going to stop. And I cannot sit here and do _nothing_."

"I know, kid. I know...But as I said, your timing is right because Andy Barclay and I have gathered a group of people whom he's encountered over the years. Survivors."

"Really?" This brought Glen a little hope.

"We're going to be meeting in about two weeks or so. I think it would be a big help if you joined us."

Glen smiled. "Of course. Anything to end this madness."

"I'm glad to hear that." Preston put a hand on Glen's shoulder. "You seem like a really good kid. And I owe an apology."

"For what?" asked Glen.

"I owe you an apology and the truth about what happened that night I delivered you."

Glen kept quiet and listened to Dane's recollection of the events of that night.

Preston ended. "It's my fault you ended up with that creep. I didn't know what to do and I made a bad hasty decision."

Glen took in what Preston was saying...he did feel a little betrayed...at the same time...he probably saved his life. Who knows what the police would have done to him, had they found him first.

"Dane," Glen set his tea cup down. "I forgive you. Your probably saved my life, and I want to thank you for that."

Preston's eyes filled with tears. "I almost killed you. I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"You didn't know what to do at the time. It's OK." Glen put his hand on Dane's folded up hands. "Everything happens for a reason." Glen thought for a moment. "Think about it this way: My mum and dad are killers and _I've_ survived _this_ long, and _will_ continue to do so."

Glen continued. "I am _surrounded_ by death. But you know something, officer?"

Preston looked Glen in the eyes. "What's that?"

"I've learned enough about darkness and evil to know it's face and that it cannot be underestimated or sent away. You thought about taking a life and you didn't. And that shows strength. Whether it was me or my sister or someone else...you didn't give into your own darkness. And that counts."

Glen reached over and gave Preston a hug.

A tear rolled down Preston's cheek, and he hugged Glen back. "You're a very wise kid, Glen. And I'm going to do what I can to help you."

Glen smiled. If anything, tonight gave him hope.

"You should come to the meeting." Dane urged.

"I'll be there." Glen's smile was warm.

"You told me you ran away from home..." Preston started to say. "If you want, you're welcome to stay in my home until I can figure out a situation for you."

Preston knew it was a risk...but he owed Glen...and this was the least he could do.

"OK." Glen agreed.

"You'll be safe there. No one knows where you are, correct. You weren't followed?"

"Not at all."

"Good, let's keep it that way."

There was a mixture of hope, excitement, and sickness in Glen's stomach. He cared very much for his family...which is why he had to stop them.


End file.
